


A Very Wet Blanket

by RomanDiget



Category: Into the Badlands (TV)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-29 23:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18788881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanDiget/pseuds/RomanDiget
Summary: A pair of conversations that might have happened.





	A Very Wet Blanket

**Author's Note:**

> MK is a meathead, past Sunny/Waldo, past Tilda/MK, potential past Bale/MK, possible future Sunny/MK, pining, angst. Intended to be cannon compliant through Season Three. Not for profit, all mistakes and misinterpretations are mine.  
> Trigger Warnings for inferred past non consent, and child abuse, and self-harm.

Waldo sat quietly while the Widow thought over his words. The war room had a huge rendering of the Badlands hanging from one wall and an old billiards table repurposed to show the local topography and relative positions of troops and fortified positions. Widow’s house colors were displayed in the upholstery and decorative hangings. To Waldo’s eye the ostentation was a mockery of the life and death struggles represented on the table. Unfortunately, she gave the response he was expecting. “We can’t give Chao a chance to replenish her ranks.” 

“I don’t see that we have a choice Baron. If we keep throwing our trained fighters at those fortified positions our ranks will be too decimated to contain the troops she does have.” 

“Can we get around them? Is there a way to disrupt her supply lines?” 

“If you still had a regent that might be possible.” The Widow graced him with a speculative look. “No,” he denied her, “don’t even think it. 

“Why? I need a regent and you were one of the best.” 

“Because Chau already knows you have me, so there is no traction to be gained there. However, the nomads have been laying low. If they hear you have a wheelchair bound Regent, it is our supply lines that would suffer.”

She began to pace the room in a widening circle, her scowl growing deeper with every circuit. “I hate having those bastards wandering at will.” 

“As you should. It’s only a matter of time before they get bold enough to resume their habits.” Waldo paused before adding “you might aim the Iron Rabbit at that problem.” 

“And how do you think that might be accomplished?” 

From his wheelchair Waldo looked at the paper tents representing the refugee camp where Lydia held court. “Do you think that reckless child will ignore the murder and rape of refugees” Waldo asked? Tilda’s defection from the Sanctuary was a source of anguish to the Widow, but if Waldo privately thought his Baron bore most of the responsibility for her suffering, he was smart enough to keep that opinion private. 

“So, I need a new regent. Is there any word about Sunny?” 

“Direct word, no. But Quinn’s head was found nailed to Chattahoochee Bridge three weeks ago.” 

“I heard -- nothing since?” 

“If I were you I would consider that bridge truly burned. Sunny isn’t going to trust you with his family a second time.” 

“Assuming his family is still alive?” 

“I think it is safe to say if Veil and the child were dead, we would hear from Sunny in very short order.” Waldo prided himself on thinking rationally but sometimes the Widow’s calculations made that hard. 

“I should have listened to Tilda that time. She always had a better heart.” The Widow stopped pacing and dropped into an overstuffed chair. “MK is Sunny’s Colt, won’t he come back for the boy?” 

Waldo considered that. The Widow calculated everything according to anticipated leverage. The boy could certainly fight but he bordered on unhinged and more than one tragedy could be laid at his feet. “It seems likely. I wouldn’t have thought they were close, but Sunny did bring him to you for safekeeping.” 

“True and prying anyone free of the Abbot’s grasp is no small task. Safekeeping it is, I don’t want to underestimate Quinn’s Regent a second time.” The Widow crossed one elegant ankle over the other. “What do you know about Nathaniel Moon?” 

Waldo smiled wolfishly “recently, only rumors.” 

“And before that?”

“He was your late husband’s Regent. Did you ever meet him?” 

“No, but he did cast a long shadow.” Waldo knew that had to be an understatement. Malachi executed three subsequent regents in less than six months. Before taking on the outlander that had delivered Vivian to him as a new wife. 

“Did you know Moon had an affair with Quinn’s wife, Lydia?” 

“And lived to tell the Tale, I did not.” The quick quirk of the Widow’s lips and the glint in her eye promised mischief. 

“Well, the lived to tell the tale part only came to light recently. Word of Quinn’s demise might have brought him out of the shadows.” 

“Do you think that’s true, Waldo?” 

“I do not.” Rumors about Moon’s return to the Badlands were all third and fourth-hand. Though the number of names that went in search and never came back was still growing. 

“Good. I need a Regent with a fearsome reputation and by your admission it cannot be you. I also need allies if we are going to win this war.” 

“You want Moon as your regent, and you think their old affair will bind Lydia to your cause?”

“Do you have a better idea?” 

“I think for a revolutionary planning to burn the whole thing down, you are very busy putting the same people in charge. How is the new order going to be any better than what we had before?” 

“I want peace for our people” she said. “Now, where can I find Moon?” 

***

There were moments Waldo reveled in his skills, today was not going to be one of them. The Baron’s household had a private dojo. High windows letting in green dappled light opened just a few inches above the ground. In the long forgotten past these rooms had been the mansion’s kitchens and pantries. It was mostly open space now; load bearing interior walls had been replace by ornate stone pillars. The external walls were whitewashed and the floor pave in brightly colored ceramic tiles. A shallow ramp descended from the main floor with its grand hall, library, and study. From the top of the ramp Waldo heard the shuffle of bare feet and the huffing of a single body at work. His chair glided down the curved ramp with only minimal effort to steer. The trek back up would be slightly more vigorous but Waldo trained on a daily basis for this sort of thing.  
MK’s strategic value was questionable right now, but Sunny had entrusted the boy to the Widow’s care and by extension Waldo’s responsibility. Assuming his former Colt survived this war or even the next few months, any appearance of betrayal would be damning for all parties. At the foot of the ramp Waldo stopped to take inventory. The boy had more inner demons to exercise than a witches’ cupboard. Just now whatever venom was choking the boy was being vented against a wooden post with crossbars; all wrapped in thick rope padding. The force of MK’s strikes on the dummy made Waldo wince. Never mind that human flesh was not designed for that kind of abuse, the creak and squeal of the wooden joints indicated that particular practice dummy would soon be added to the kitchen fires. 

The rhythm of blows was well ordered but varied in the combination of strikes used. Because he had trained both of Mk’s teachers himself, Waldo’s practiced eye could discern a pattern, but the boy wasn’t telegraphing any of his movements. That was a vast improvement over last year. Aside from the heat and moisture radiating off the boy’s body, the space was kept cool by the buildings brick walls and ceramic floor. MK had stripped down to a fundoshi. Sweat darkened linen, girded hips gleaming like polished bronze in the diffuse light. Naked bodies were nothing new to the former Regent, and the male body even less so. That said, MK was worth looking at, whipcord lean with every sharp angle softened by curving muscle. The sinuous footwork led the boy around the dummy in a series of arcs toward and then away from the wooden posts. It didn’t take much imagination to understand why both Quinn and the Widow thought Sunny’s relationship with MK was carnal. Though Quinn really should have known better.

“Sunny’s Colt.” 

MK paused for a breath before resuming the kata. “What do you want old-man?” 

Waldo kept his face deadpan. The boy was expecting someone but not the former Regent. Since Tilda had run off with Odessa that could only mean someone else was courting MK. The boy turned heads like a northern breeze turned the blades of a windmill and with as much notice, so whoever he was expecting could only be trouble.  
“No one can accuse you of shirking”. 

“What, you’re impressed?” MK had paused but kept his gaze on the padded post in front of him.

Waldo scowled. Despite the sarcastic tone the boy was starved for attention and the former Regent wanted none of it. “Do you know why Sunny took you as his Colt?”

“I do, and not for the reasons you think.” MK turned to glare at Waldo a faint rose coloring his cheeks.

“Obviously!” Waldo growled “if you two had a conventional relationship most of your problems would be solved.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Waldo shrugged. “Every Colt expects to give it up to his master.” The boy hadn’t been in the barracks long enough to see how Clippers related to each other, so maybe this needed explaining. “For that matter most Clippers have Shield-mates. It’s not an orientation so much as a human need for intimacy. Since we are forbidden to marry on pain of death, other kinds of relationships have to take on that burden.” 

“Sunny never wanted that. ” The boy returned his gaze to the pells, but the pace of blows had slowed a fraction. “Anyway, Sunny is in love with Veil, he doesn’t need me for that.” 

“That’s my point lad.” The boy knew more about flying to the moon than he did about how relationships worked. Waldo knew MK had been orphaned by violence and had spent at least six years evading capture while scrapping his meals out of trash heaps. “What I am saying is you got a raw deal from Sunny. He was interested in what you could do for him and not about what you needed.” 

“He was training me to fight.” 

“Exactly.” 

“That’s what Clippers do. They fight, they rise in rank based on their skills” the bored tone the boy tried to affect was undercut by a note of confusion. 

“Since when do you want to be a Clipper?” The kid had spent most of his life avoiding capture and servitude. “Clippers serve, they are obedient, neither of those things are natural to you. If Sunny was doing his job you would have learned submission is victory not defeat.” 

MK stopped pounding the wooden dummy looking at Waldo in disbelief. “How is that supposed to work?” 

The boy was pretty, with full lips that Waldo knew would feel amazing, and huge dark eyes. Unsullied wasn’t in the equation but Waldo very much doubted anybody had ever bothered with the boy’s pleasure.

“You know Sunny was my Colt?” MK nodded assent the blush was back. “Do you know why I chose him?” 

“Because you like diddling little boys.”

Waldo snorted at the feeble jab. “As if I would live out the week if I ever tried. Didn’t you hear anything Quinn said when you were recruited?” 

“Clippers get the best of everything, second only to the Barons” MK quoted. “They can take anything they want, anybody they want.” The voice trailed off – whether that was distaste or fear was anyone’s guess. 

“Almost right” Waldo explained, “they can have anybody cog or free. But only a Baron can force themselves on a Clipper or a Colt.”  
MK turned back toward the practice dummy. “So, you don’t like little boys?” The sarcasm was back. 

“Let’s hope you never find out” Waldo snarked. Let the judgmental little prick sweat that. “Sunny was exceptional, but like you he didn’t know the difference between loosing and surviving.” 

“And your solution was to wick him into submission?” 

“My solution was to let him love me.” 

“Sunny loves Veil.” 

“And he could never have loved anybody that came before her?” 

“He’s not like that!” 

“Of course, he is MK, he’s human, and he was a child, a homeless child without family or clan. So are you by the way” 

“So . . . you think some dick will fix me?” Contempt dripped from MK’s question. 

“It could hardly make you worse.” Waldo snapped, violence was a way of life in the Badlands and sexual violence was one method to instill terror. Waldo understood the how to use fear as a tool, he also knew that even momentary tenderness could foster heroic endurance under adversity. “Unfortunately,” Waldo continued in a casual tone, “since you murdered the last boy to fall-in-love with you, pickings are going to be slim.” 

MK spun back around, ready to lunge. Waldo’s challenging smirk stopped him. “What the hell!” MK yelled “Are you trying to fuck with my head?” 

“You don’t remember murdering Bale?” Waldo challenged, “are you going to claim that was self-defense?” 

“He was going to kill Tilda for no reason.”

“All Gods great and small, you miserable suckling pup” Waldo growled. “Of course, he had a reason. She was trying to lure you away from him, as well as from your Baron. Bale damn well knew that Quinn would hunt you down for running off with a woman. It’s the one-rule every baron enforces. Why do you think Sunny was trying to get Veil out of the Badlands?” Waldo let that sink-in. “Another thing Bale knew Quinn would have made him your executioner, because that’s the sick kind of game that bastard loves.”  
Whatever MK lacked in reasoning he made up for in imagination. Waldo’s narrative connected all the seemingly unrelated facts. “Bale didn’t – he never said – he never tried . . .” 

The stuttering grief was a good sign. “Oh, he would have.” Waldo let his voice turn warm and lewd. “Bale was a thinker. He knew you would never trust love if it just fell into your lap.”

“Why, why would he think that?” 

“Maybe because anybody could see you had been living like a hunted animal for years.” 

“That wasn’t my fault.” The sweat cooling on the boy’s bare skin might have caused the sudden hunching of shoulders. 

“Like his death wasn’t your fault? I don’t know how Tilda got under your guard but even Quinn relents toward those that care about him.” Waldo had a sudden thought. “Maybe that’s your trigger. You fell into line fast enough for Sunny when he wanted to use you.”

“Tilda wanted to be with me.” 

“She said that?” Waldo jibbed, “Cause it wasn’t even a week after you disappeared before Odessa was in her bed.” Waldo let his mind pick at all the dark corners in this line of reasoning. MK was shuffling his feet and looking toward his trousers hanging on a hook. “Nope, I don’t think she wanted you. It probably wasn’t any hardship” the former Regent gave the boy an appreciative scan, “but I doubt teenage hormones were the motive.” 

“What do you know.” MK snarled before snatching his clothing down from the hook on the wall. The wrap-around shirt went on smoothly enough, but glaring daggers was definitely a handicap to pulling up your trousers. “You don’t know anything about me Waldo. You’re just a bitter old cripple looking to make everyone as lonely as you are.” 

“Lonely?” He had taken the brat apart once and he could certainly do it again. “Even in this chair, I have more than enough friends and lovers. Do you?” The boy dropped his eyes long enough to locate the drawstrings and knot them around his waist. “Who is going to remember you MK? The boy looked up a moment, the smooth brow creased and eyes shining before ducking his gaze to lace his shirt closed. “Sunny went to root Quinn out of his den, and he hasn’t come back for you. Tilda is running riot over the badlands raiding shipments and its only a matter of time before that is annoying enough that someone sticks her head on a spear. Even the Widow is tired of your disrespect.” 

“The Widow only cares about using my gift to beat her enemies.” 

“Is that so? Because you said the gift is gone, and she still took you in.” Waldo glanced around the huge gymnasium. The mansion around them was massive, gleaming and shinny with palatial gardens outside, and polished wood, silk, and satin inside. “Given the way you treat her generosity I would guess she really does care about you, but what does a lonely old cripple know.” Waldo took a steadying breath. “Everyone thinks your something special; that you can do things for them that are otherwise out of reach. I think you are a flawed tool MK. You’re a poisonous little snake mistaken as a weapon and you will bite any hand that lifts you up.”  
The boy turned and ran for the stairs. Waldo let him go. Every kind and encouraging word spoken to MK over the last year had gone awry. Someone needed to say the hard things, before the boy got so bad they had to put him down. 

If it came to that, Sunny might never forgive him and that wasn’t something Waldo wanted to experience.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone enjoys, and thanks for leaving kudos


End file.
